Unacquaintences
by Bright Shining World
Summary: Arthur Kirkland never liked loud atmospheres, he preferred the quiet and peaceful kind. But what happens when the flamboyant French next door needs a place to crash for a few days? Can Arthur adapt to the loud and extravagant life he's being pulled into? A crappy summary is crappy. Human AU. Rated T for Arthur's potty mouth. FrUk with a side of Spamano, PruCan and maybe GerIta.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This is my first fanfic and I hope you enjoy reading this! This is going to be a short series featuring mainly FrUk with a side of Spamano, PruCan and maybe even GerIta. Enjoy~**

* * *

Arthur didn't have much friends, he preferred to have a quiet and peaceful atmosphere free from small talk, loud laughter and awkward silences. Because of this, he was often at home armed with a good book and a cup of piping hot tea. However, his era of peace was soon interrupted when a flamboyant French man moved into the house beside his.

"Bloody brilliant!" he exclaimed sarcastically as he peeped through his floral curtains to see the Frenchman laughing loudly," Not only do I have to deal with that stupid Alfred but now I have a bloody frog next door, just great!"

Arthur, being the stubborn man he was, made no attempt at contact with his new neighbour so he knew absolutely nothing about him, heck, he didn't even know his _name_. All he knew was that there was another abnormally loud person he had to deal with and that certainly did not settle well with him. He didn't want anything to do with the loud Frenchie, that was until his doorbell rang in the most unearthly hour.

_DING DONG!_

_Who the bloody hell could that be?! It's 3 in the fucking morning for goodness sake!_

Arthur continued his internal rage as he flung his front door open, a scowl gracing his features. He suddenly froze when he found his French neighbour standing at his door. Well, his _naked _French neighbour to be exact.

"Bonjour, mon ami!" he cried loudly, grabbing Arthur by the shoulders and air kissing him on both sides of his face, causing the Englishman's cheeks to turn scarlet," Would you mind if I stayed over for a while? I promise it will only be a couple of days."

This snapped Arthur out of his flustered state and his caterpillar-brows eyebrows scrunched together in disgust.

"First of all, the fact that you're butt-stark naked in public proves how untrustworthy you are!" he chided. The Frenchman looked down and a surprised look crawled up onto his face, it was as if he just realized he was exposing absolutely _everything_ to the whole darn neighbourhood.

"And secondly, why the bloody hell do you need to stay over anyway? You have your own house, don't you?" Arthur continued angrily. The Frenchman let out a hearty laugh as he leaned one hand on Arthur's doorframe.

"My dear friend, Gilbert, released a bunch of impregnated cockroaches into my house by accident. And when the eggs hatched, all of the little _enfants _were released into my house and now I need a place to stay until the exterminators make them go poof!" he explained, his smile never leaving his face. Arthur stared at him for a few seconds before yet another scowl scrunched up his face.

"How the hell do you 'accidentally'," he held his hands up to do air inverted comas," Release cockroaches into someone else's house?"

The other man shrugged, his lips forming into a pout.

"Beats me," he said, earning an eye-roll from the Englishman.

"But, _s'il vous plait_, Arthur! I really do need a place to stay! I don't want to live in a house full of turtles or share a house with a crazy German and his scary brother!" he begged, holding Arthur's hands in his and making puppy dog eyes at him.

"Hello no!" Arthur exclaimed," There's no way I'm sharing my house with _you_!"

"Oh, _merci mon ami_! I've already packed up so I'll be moving in straight away!" he declared, completely ignoring Arthur's earlier exclamation.

"I- what? I certainly did not- Oi!" Arthur sputtered, watching his new housemate wheel in three large suitcases into his house. The Frenchman carried the suitcases one by one up the stairs as Arthur continued to sputter angrily and protest. When the Frenchman finished lugging his baggage up the stairs, he leaned on the railing and looked at Arthur with his bright blue eyes.

"And by the way, I am Francis Bonnefoy, pleasure to meet you!" he said happily. Arthur glared at him and stormed past him, stomping on every step. When he reached the top of the stairs, he turned back to Francis and growled," The pleasure is most certainly _not _mine."

And with that, he stomped into his room and slammed the door shut, muttering about eccentric frogs and troublesome Frenchies under his breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yup! Two updates in one day. That's because the first chapter was quite short so I decided to publish the 2nd chapter as well. Enjoy~**

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The scent of coffee filled Arthur's nostrils as he woke up from his sleep. He had a terrible dream where a naked Frenchman had come to his house asking for a place to stay. Arthur chuckled lightly, it's probably nothing. Besides, it was nothing more than a-

"Bonjour, mon lapin!"

_Oh to hell with this!_

Arthur's head snapped to the side to see the Frenchie sitting on the edge of his bed, sipping on a coffee mug with the words "_Je veux une omlette du fromage" _on it. Whether it was supposed to be a sexual innuendo or an inside joke, Arthur neither knew nor cared. What he wanted to know, however, was why Francis was in his room (fully clothed this time, thankfully).

The Frenchman's long blonde hair was gathered together into a low ponytail with a few locks of his hair free and in loose curls. He was dressed in tight-looking black pants and a long-sleeved navy blue and white striped shirt. With the pose he held, one leg planted on the floor and the other up on Arthur's bed, bent at the joint with his coffee mug arm draped over his knee, he looked like he was posing for a magazine. And with the rays of sunlight flooding in through Arthur's curtains, it set a mood that screamed "ARTISTIC PHOTOGRAPHY-NESS".

Arthur snapped out of his dazed morning state to glare at the chuckling French.

"What's with the dazed expression, _mon lapin_?" he asked teasingly, sipping on his coffee," Am I so good-looking that you got distracted? Goodness, I'm very flattered, _cher_."

"Shut it, frog," Arthur growled, his voice hoarse due to having just woken up. Arthur cleared his throat before continuing.

"What the hell are you doing in my room, anyway?" he asked in suspicion. _Had he taken anything? I swear to God if he did anything to my tea stash I'm gonna-_

"It's Saturday," Francis said, staring straight at Arthur with a blank expression on his face. Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow, green eyes sparking with suspicion.

"_Yes_," he said slowly," It is. What importance does this day hold?"

Francis' face scrunched up in confusion as he cocked his head to the side. "Don't you have to go out or something? Maybe for a date or to hang out with your friends?"

Arthur's mood immediately soured as he pulled his blanket up to his shoulders and lay on his side. "I don't have any friends," he snapped haughtily. He shut his eyes to get a little more sleep in until he felt his blanket get yanked away from his body. His eyes snapped open and they narrowed once he saw the blonde man folding his blanket. Arthur sat up and crossed his arms, eyes throwing daggers at him.

"Why did you do that?!" he snapped, hopping off of his bed and standing in front of the Frenchman, hands on his hips.

"And that is _not_ how you fold a blanket- here let me do it," he stated angrily, grabbing the blanket and refolding it into a rectangle.

"Why so much angst, _mon lapin_?," Francis chuckled, he flung Arthur's closet open and started to rummage through his clothes. He brushed his fingers over the cloth and picked a random hanger, drawing out a dark green sweater vest. Francis immediately made a sour face and tossed it over his shoulder.

"_What the bloody hell?!_" Arthur shouted, diving in to catch all the clothes Francis started to throw over his shoulder," What the- _quit it!_"

Francis ignored Arthur's yelling and nagging and proceeded to take out a pale blue button up shirt, a blazer and a pair of dark jeans. Francis looked at the items with a thoughtful expression on his face, his lips forming a small pout and his eyebrows scrunched together. Then he let out a deep sigh and lay the pieces of clothing on Arthur's bed.

"I suppose these will have to do. I'll try to take you out shopping as soon as possible, _mon ami_, but in the meantime we'll have to settle with this dull wardrobe," Francis stated sadly. This earned a scoff from the other blonde and replaced all of the thrown clothes back into his closet. "What do you mean _'dull wardrobe'_?! My fashion sense is fine, idiot!" he exclaimed angrily. Francis gave him a look of pity before taking a step forward and pulling Arthur into a comforting hug.

"It's okay, _cher_, accepting it is the first step to a recovery. Once big brother is done with you, your wardrobe will be _trés chic!_" he cooed as he pet Arthur's head gently. The shorter man let out a frustrated growl as he shoved the Frenchman away.

"Oh, sod off you damn frog!" he snapped," Why do I need to change anyway? I already told you, I don't have any plans-"

"You do now!" Francis declared," I'm taking you out for a day of fun because I am a man with _une beau cœur _and I am willing to be a good friend and take you out!"

The look on Arthur's face was priceless. His green eyes shone with fear as they continued to stare at the Frenchman and his mouth was left agape and confused sputters leaked out of his mouth. Francis clapped his hands together happily as he shoved the clothes into Arthur's hands and pushed him into the bathroom, ordering him to holler once he was done getting ready. Apparently, Francis wanted to 'pretty him up a bit'. Arthur could've sworn he heard Francis mutter something about his eyebrows under his breath. He rolled his eyes angrily as he shut the bathroom door.

"There's nothing wrong with my fashion sense, the frog is bloody _blind_!" he raged to his reflection as he yanked off his night clothes and showered in a fit of rage. He quickly dried off and pulled more like angrily yanked his clothes on. He flipped his blonde mop around in the same motion as a dog in an attempt to dry his hair. He gave himself a once over in the mirror and decided that this was as good as it was going to get. He flung the door open and screamed down the hall," FRANCIS! FROG, I'M FINISHED!"

There was a loud thud followed by loud footsteps before Francis appeared in front of him, his hair messy and clinging to his face and panting slightly. "_Mon Dieu, lapin! _You gave me a heart attack! Oh, my poor heart..." he sighed pitifully.

Arthur crossed his arms across his chest lifted up his chin in a haughty manner. It looked quite ridiculous since Arthur was almost a head shorter than Francis.

Francis clapped his hands together and lightly pushed Arthur back into the bathroom with a pouch and medium sized black metallic box.

"Now then, _Monsieur Kirkland_, time to get all glammed up!" he announced happily as he clicked the box open.

"Bloody hell frog, is that_ make up?!"_

"_Non! _It is something I like to call _man up_."

"Oh, very funny, frog!"


	3. Chapter 3

"This is _your_ bloody damn fault, you damn frog!"

"_My _fault?! _S__'__il te plait mais_ who decided to pick a fight with an 82 year-old woman holding a cat?!"

"…"

"Exactly!"

Arthur slumped back into the cement wall, his bottom lip jutted out in sulky manner as he heard Francis laugh in victory. The cell wasn't that bad. It wasn't as stuffy and hot as he'd imagined it and the policemen in charge weren't that cruel, they were quite nice actually. The only problem was that he had to share it with the damn Frenchie, plus he couldn't use the bathroom either. The toilet they were expected to use sat behind a short, white tiled wall that would probably only cover Arthur's bottom half if he sat on the seat. Despite the small divider, Arthur had no intention of using it even with the desperate call of nature, he refused to use that toilet, he didn't want to endure Francis' suggestive expressions and perverted laughter as he relieved himself.

Smirking smugly, Francis he sat up, blue eyes sparkling with victory. The Brit turned his face away with a sour expression on his face, making Francis chuckled and reached a pale hand out to ruffle Arthur's already messy and unkempt hair.

"Don't worry, mon ami in going to bail us out in no time."

Arthur groaned as if he was in pain. He turned to the French with a grimace as he asked the dreaded question which would probably procure the dreaded answer.

"By any chance, does this 'friend' of yours go by the name Antonio or Gilbert?"

Francis scoffed indignantly as he sat up straighter.

"I may trust the two with my alcohol but I certainly don't trust either of them with anything involving money," the blonde man scoffed, much to Arthur's relief, flipping a stray blond curl out of his face.

Arthur sighed in relief as he continued to question Francis on who was bailing them out. Obviously, the Frenchman decided to just flat out ignore him and focus on his manicured- or as Francis like to call it _'__manly-cured__'_\- finger nails and just flat out refused to answer him. Arthur then decided to just give it up and go to sleep. But as he drifted to sleep, he began to recall how they even ended up being arrested in the first place.

* * *

"I still don't see why we didn't take my car instead."

Francis let out a hiss of exasperation as he slowed his car down to a halt as the light turned red. Getting Arthur to look even remotely fashionable was hard enough but having to listen to the Brit rant about how the journey would have been a lot faster if they had taken his own car was absolute _torture_. Honestly, Francis didn't think it made any difference, seeing as they both owned a mini Cooper. The only difference was that Arthur's was a plain black and Francis' was- in his opinion- a tasteful pale blue.

"And honestly, drive a little faster, frog, or we'll take twice as long to get to that damn café," Arthur grumbled, folding his arms across his chest and glaring out the car window. Francis merely sighed as he continued to drive down the almost empty road once the light turned green.

"I would rather not get into an accident, merci beaucoup," Francis replied sarcastically as he turned around a corner, suddenly swerving the car to avoid running over some random cat that had dashed across the road.

Arthur screamed in horror and gripped the handle of the door and Francis' forearm as the car skidded on the road. Francis swerved the car to the pavement, managing to stop the car in time and prevented them from crashing into a mailbox. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as Francis leaned back into his seat, panting.

_THWAK!_

" Lapin! Why did you do that?!" Francis cried out in shock as he held his throbbing cheek with his hands. Arthur glared at him with his acidic green eyes as he yelled at the Frenchman.

"We could have _died_ you idiot!" Arthur glared, his ears turning red in frustration. Francis' jaw went slack as he was filled with anger and a sense of injustice. Rolling his eyes, Francis threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Yes, lapin, because I planned for a random cat to dash across the road and essentially almost get us into a car accident!" Francis rolled his eyes, his lips pressed into a straight line.

He could feel Arthur's intense glare pricking into the side of his face. "Well, the least you could have done was to _not _almost crash into some random person's mail box!" Arthur growled, his green eyes narrowing into tiny slits and every syllable spoken laced with venom. Francis sucked in an angry breath. Turning to look at the Brit with and equally intense glare, he opened his moth to snarl something back.

He wasn't sure what he would've said- Francis was far to overcome with anger to come up with anything clever- but it was probably something nasty. But before Francis could reply, someone impatiently knocked on the window next to Arthur. Both men looking at each other confused. After Francis had rolled down the window, Arthur cleared his throat to look up at the stranger.

Standing there was a woman who didn't seem to be in a very happy mood. The crinkles around her eyes were creased as her chocolate eyes formed into a glare, her pale lips pressed together in a thin, tight line. Her gray hair was knotted in a tight bun on the back of her head with a few stray strands of hair framing her small face.

Arthur coughed nervously as he said in the politest tone he could muster," Good morning, Madam, what seems to be the problem?"

The elderly woman huffed in anger as a scandalized look made its way onto her wrinkled face.

"What's _wrong?!_" she repeated in a shrill voice as she held the cat that almost killed them close to her chest," What's _wrong_, kind sir, is that the gentleman driving this car almost killed my cat!"

Francis let out an offended squeak as he unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward so that his body was spread out on Arthur's lap and his head was poking out of the window to confront this demon of an elderly woman.

"_Excusé moi?!__"_Francis cried out in anger as he glared at the woman," I was driving just fine until that _démon chat _decided he wanted to kill us and dash across the damn road!"

"Mr Whiskerton would _never_ risk anybody's life," she shrieked, looking scandalized," Maybe if you drove with care, you and mister caterpillar-brows wouldn't have gotten into this mess!"

Arthur sputtered in anger as he swung the car door open. He shoved the Frenchman off of his lap, much to his surprise, and stepped out of the car, his ears reddening with anger.

You could call Arthur whatever you wanted. Mr Grumpypants, son of a bitch, anything really. But you absolutely positively _do not_ comment about his eyebrows. Arthur would go ballistic if you did.

"I'm sorry, you devil woman, but last time _I _checked, a good cat owner would not have left their pet unattended to almost get hit by a car!" he snarled, green eyes darkening in anger.

"Are you calling me a bad cat owner?" the woman mused, her expression turning blank. Arthur turned his nose up indignantly as he folded his arms.

"Yes, I am, you darned cat woman."

Suddenly, he felt a great force hitting his head over and over again. Francis was screaming bloody murder as he tried to restrain the woman. Turning around, the woman let out a shriek of complete and utter anger before slapping Francis across the face. The Frenchman stumbled back and glared at the woman. He was about to snap at the woman once again before the most horrifying thing happened.

Arthur had pounced on the elderly woman and the two were now in a whirlwind of fists and swearing.

And a police car just pulled up beside them.

Well, shit.

"Lapin, wake up, my friend is here," Francis whispered at him. Arthur opened his eyes and blinked groggily, sitting up to take a look at the friend that Francis claimed to be able to bail them out. He then froze in horror as he stared up at a familiar face.

The tall man smirked down at him and leaned against the wall next to him, his arms folded over his chest, green eyes sparkling with mischief and his red hair as messy as ever.

"Hullo, brother," the Scotsman smirked," Fancy seeing ye here."

Arthur sighed and buried his face in his hands. Oh, what did he get himself into?

* * *

**So, if you didn****'****t figure it out, the ****'****friend****'**** Francis called up was Alistair Kirkland A.K.A Scotland, or Arthur****'****s big brother.**

**French:**

**S****'****il te plait mais ****–**** Sorry but**

**Mon ami ****–**** My friend**

**Merci beaucoup ****–**** Thank you very much**

**Lapin ****–**** Rabbit**

**Exucsé moi ****–**** Excuse me**

**Démon chat ****–**** Demon cat**


	4. Chapter 4

Sitting in a car with the frog was bad enough. But sitting with a frog _and _your older brother- who was fogging up all the clean air present with carbon monoxide- was so bad Arthur would have probably moved to Mars and happily died of suffocation. Or, Arthur could simply grab his brother's burning cigar out of his hands and stick it up his nose to suffocate the Scotsman then and there since he was already at risk for lung cancer, anyway.

Pressing his lips into a straight line, Arthur folded his arms and leaned back into his seat, staring out of the care window when a gust of black smoke was blown into his face, sending him into a coughing fit. Flapping the smoke out of his face with his hand, Arthur glanced next to him to glare at his brother, his green eyes filled with suspicion. Alistair glanced back, noticing the scathing look his little brother was giving him and smirked.

"Something the matter?" he asked with an innocent smile on his face. The redhead had his cigarette clamped between his lips, the smoke fogging up the whole car with the stench of burning chemicals mixing with the vehicle's air freshener, not that Alistair even cared. As the car came to a stop at a red light, Arthur unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over from his seat and plucked the cigarette out of his brother's mouth and tossed it out of his open window, a smug look on Arthur's face.

The redhead turned to the blond next to him and glared. "Wrong move, lil' brother."

The older Kirkland unbuckled his own seat belt and jumped onto Arthur, ready to wrestled for his stolen cigar.

"You overgrown twat!"

"Goldie locks!"

"Redheaded failure!"

"Sir Whines-a-lot!"

"Mister I-Have-No-Manners!"

"Is that the worst you've got, ya dickhead?"

"That's rich coming from a guy who doesn't even have one because most of it's in his personality!"

"What did you just say to me, Captain eyebrows!"

"Oh you did not just-!"

"Kirkland children!" Francis called from the back seat," The light has turned green, just letting you know!"

"Shut up!" the two brothers shouted as they continued to wrestle each other, slowly forgetting why they were even in that particular predicament in the first place. Francis sighed and looked behind him anxiously to see a line of cars behind them, all of them honking impatiently and causing a traffic jam. The driver behind them glared scathingly at Francis, his beady eyes sending a silent threat that he might get out of his car and smash their car doors open.

Francis gulped and tried to pry the brothers off of each other, but they were really getting into it so it was almost impossible to pull them apart.

"Hello?" Francis shouted over the insults being thrown," Just so you know, the drivers behind us want to kill us!"

Sighing, Francis prepared himself for the impending doom of his gorgeous hair as he haphazardly climbed into the driver's seat whilst doing his best to avoid the flying fists and waving legs. Francis let out a low whistle as he caught sight of Alistair's well-toned abs as his shirt happened to have pulled up until his stomach during the fight. Smacking himself on the head, Francis focused his eyes back on the road and sped off as fast as he could, away from the murderous drivers behind them. Taking a quick glance next to him, Francis saw that the brothers were still in their little sibling brawl. Sighing, Francis decided to just take the brothers to Arthur's house.

* * *

Finally pulling up into Arthur's driveway, Francis turned to see that the brothers had stopped fighting and had reduced the violent punches and pinches to childish shoves and glares along with some not-so-nice describing words to each other. The Frenchman unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car to walk to the other side and abruptly open the door, causing the two Kirklands to tumble out of the car and onto the cement driveway.

Groaning, Alistair stood up haphazardly, slightly stumbling as he got up, unlike his brother he gracefully got up and dusted himself, sending Alistair a disdainful look in the process.

The eldest Kirkland exhaled slowly, running his fingers through his fiery hair. He shoved his hands into his pockets as the three stood there in an awkward silence until Alistair licked his lips, a slight smirk on his face.

"Well, you two love birds enjoy your time together, I'll be off," he said dismissively. He sauntered over to Arthur and pinched both of his cheeks, making the small Brit look something akin to a chipmunk.

"Goodbye, Artie-kins," Alistair mocked," Use protection while you're big brother ain't around to do the protecting for you!"

Arthur cheeks blossomed with colour as a resounding smack rang through the air. Alistair left with a fresh hand print and a shit-eating grin on his face along with a dark look from his brother.

As Francis and Arthur watched the car drive away, Francis turned to Arthur, a suggestive look on his face," So, about using that protection-"

"Don't even think about it!"

"Oh, come on!"

* * *

Other than the occasional sniffs from Francis, the room was completely silent as the two listened intently to what was going on. Arthur looked down at his ice cream, unable to listen any further until Francis let out a cry of disbelief and stood up in a rage.

"No, Maria! He's in love with you!" he cried, bitter tears streaming down his face. He fell to his knees, his hands reaching out toward the television screen before the two neighbours cried out a resounding," You bitch!"

"Did she seriously blame _Maria _for Ronaldo calling off the engagement?!" Arthur seethed, filling his mouth with ice cream.

"I know right? Completely uncalled for!" Francis agreed, taking up his spot on the sofa again as he scooped up a handful of popcorn from the bowl and stuffed it into his mouth, a few bits falling onto his lap.

They gasped as the cameras zoomed in on the actor playing Ronaldo, the heartbroken expression of Maria fresh in their minds. They leaned in closer as Ronaldo stuttered, his face contorting with confliction as he struggled to form his words.

"M- Maria, I'm sorry- but-"

"How _could _you, Ronaldo? I thought you _loved _me!" Maria cried, clutching her rosary to her chest," You said that the Lord willed us to be together! Then you do _this?!_"

"Because I love Heather!"

A resounding gasp erupted from Arthur and Francis as they clutched their food bowls to their chests. When the credits started rolling out, Francis slammed his bowl onto the coffee table and growled angrily.

"Of all people, Ronaldo falls in love with Maria's sister, Heather?!" Francis seethed as Arthur looked for something else to watch.

"I know!" Arthur cried out in exasperation, throwing his hands up in the air," Heather isn't even that pretty!"

"Exactly! In fact, my little sister looks ten times prettier than _her_," Francis scoffed," I just can't even right now! Ugh!"

He fell back onto the sofa as Arthur gasped.

"What?" Francis asked, looking startled.

Arthur turned to Francis, a triumphant smile on his face as he grabbed Francis' arm and looked straight at him.

"The next episode is up," Arthur stated, his green eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. Francis grinned as he grabbed the remote and pressed play, the intro rolling in.

"Spanish soup operas, here we come!"

* * *

**So, after a day of getting arrested and getting stuck with Alistair, the two decided to rest up by watching Spanish soup operas. Why am I not surprised?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! I'm not dead! So sorry for being so slow in my updates but in my defense I have school! The only reason why I could post this and another story (which is a HongIce fic called 'Spray Painted Hearts' eheh I know, I'm self-advertising) is because I currently have a one week holiday before my finals. So I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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The first thing that Arthur noticed when he woke up was the undeniable scent of roses. Yes, he had a thing for the beautiful yet prickly flower; however, he didn't recall buying a bouquet the day before.

_Oh, yes, I was arrested,_ he remembered offhandedly.

Despite the new scent in his house, Arthur didn't want to get up and investigate where it was coming from. Instead, he snuggled deeper into whatever seemed to be emitting the scent, immersing himself in the fragrance.

He felt his being being drifted off to sleep once again when he suddenly remembered that he had work to do. Groaning, he cursed himself for not completing his work on Friday, otherwise he would've been able to continue his state of relaxation.

Blinking his eyes opened, he attempted to stretch out his sore limbs when he realized that he wasn't in his room, but in his living room. In fact the television was still on, its screen displaying a list of around 50 or so episodes. Seeing where the little arrow was placed on the list, it seemed that Arthur had stayed up to watch at least half of them. Considering that each of the episodes were around fifty minutes long, that was quite a marathon Arthur had sat through.

Arthur yawned loudly and tried to get up, only to realize that Francis was clinging on to his torso. He tried to pry the Frenchman's arms off of him but he was surprisingly strong so Arthur could do nothing more but to stay put and wait till Francis woke up.

Letting out a frustrated huff, Arthur let his arms dangle off behind the sofa as he stretched his legs out onto the coffee table in front of them, wondering what he could do in the meantime. All of his books, along with his computer, were stored in his study so he couldn't continue doing his work, read or watch funny cat videos. Not only that, watching TV was no longer an option either because the remote was on the farthest corner of the coffee table. Arthur would have to get up and move to retrieve it and moving was obviously not an option because of a certain Sleeping Beauty.

Arthur looked around his living room, cursing himself for not putting his bookshelf in there instead. He looked down at Francis to see if he was waking up but paused at the look on his face.

Francis looked so… calm. Nothing like the loud and boisterous next door neighbour that Arthur to get roped up with. His long blond hair was gently falling from its original place behind his ear and onto his peaceful-looking face. His lips were curled up slightly in a way that graced his whole face with a warm expression. Occasionally, his grip on Arthur's body would tighten followed by a contented sigh that escaped his lips. It was enough for Arthur to subconsciously brush the hair out of the sleeping man's face and tuck it gently behind his ear. Soon, Arthur found himself to be loosely braiding Francis' hair a humming a lullaby his mother would sing to him when he was a child.

He quickly snapped out of his daze when Francis let out a soft grunt, rolling his body away from Arthur, essentially releasing him from his iron-like grip. Arthur blinked a few times before reaching out to brush a hair out of his face until he froze mid-action.

Arthur sat there in shock as he processed what he was about to do and jumped back, unintentionally falling off the edge of the sofa. He groaned as pain shot through the back of his head and back.

_Why the bloody hell would I want to touch the bloody frog?!_

Sighing, Arthur got up and dusted his bum off and stalked into the kitchen in a confused frenzy. He routinely prepared himself a cup of tea as he continued to slap himself around over his morning misadventure.

Turning on his stove, he prepared his steel kettle and poured water into it from a jug he kept on his counter. By looking at the bottom of the kettle, you could tell that it had been used for a very long time. In fact, it was actually given to him by his brother before the accident that cost almost everything that Arthur held dear.

Shuddering and quickly burying the painful thought away, he placed the kettle over the fire and waited for the water to boil as he opened his tea cupboard to choose his tea for the day. That's right, Arthur had a whole cupboard reserved for his tea, problem?

Deciding on the mint-flavoured tea bags that he received from his Italian co-worker for his birthday, he placed it in his special tea mug and prepared the milk and sugar cubes.

As he prepared his tea, he heard some groaning coming from his living room which, he assumed, was coming from his French guest. Hearing him shuffle around and yawn as he came in, Arthur sighed inwardly and said," Good morning."

Francis grunted in response as he sleepily trudged toward Arthur's refrigerator and pulling the door open. Pulling out a jug of orange juice, he pulled out a random cup from one of Arthur's shelves and poured it in. Arthur looked at him and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"How could you drink orange juice without brushing your teeth, that's disgusting," Arthur commented. Francis rolled his eyes as he finished off his gulp.

"I bet you didn't even bother to brush your teeth, either," Francis retorted as he drink some more orange juice. And that was when the kettle started to scream, the stopper on the spout's lip flapping up and down. Francis sighed and muttered something in French as Arthur jumped to turn off the flame. Taking a heat-proof cloth, Arthur held the handle and poured the steaming hot water into his mug, the liquid turning the liquid into the golden-brown colour that tea usual was.

"So, about your house," Arthur said as he stirred in the sugar and milk into his tea," How long, exactly, will the exterminations process take?"

"Oh, so eager to get rid of me, huh?" Francis smirked, setting down his now empty cup," Well if you must know the exterminator said that it would probably take another week."

"A w-week?" Arthur sputtered," Then again, you _did_ infest you whole house."

"It wasn't even me who did it," Francis corrected with a laugh," It was Gilber."

"Beilschmidt?" Arthur clarified, an eyebrow raised," Why on earth would he want to do something as stupid as that?"

"He wanted to get me back for posting his embarrassing baby photos online," Francis laughed. Arthur nearly choked on his tea as he let out a string of laughter. "You did _what?_" Arthur exclaimed, feeling a twinge of admiration for Francis for doing something that gutsy, _especially _since it involved the loud albino.

"Yup!" Francis affirmed with a proud expression on his face," And despite my beautiful home being infested by roaches, it was completely worth it!"

The two immersed themselves in conversation just a little bit longer which Arthur, begrudgingly, enjoyed. Francis could very well be a pain but he knew how to keep a conversation going. Soon enough, it was already noon and Arthur was just about to retreat to his study to get some work done.

"Get changed, Kirkland, we're going out," Francis told him, his tone telling Arthur that no 'but's would be entertained. But even then, Arthur had to protest," Do you remember what happened the last time we went out? We got arrested."

"Relax, mon lapin, we're just going grocery shopping," Francis called out as he went upstairs," No 'if's or 'but's will be entertained, Kirkland, so go get ready!"

Sighing, Arthur not-so-reluctantly went up to his room to take a short shower and change for their little outing to the grocery store. So much for getting a little bit of work done, damn that Frenchie.


End file.
